


No Weights to My Ankles

by whittler_of_words



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Late Night Conversations, Nonverbal Frisk, Not A Shipfic, Post-Pacifist Route, Spoilers - Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5068579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whittler_of_words/pseuds/whittler_of_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were probably healthier, more socially acceptable places to meet and talk than a too-soft couch at three o’clock in the morning. There were probably healthier, more socially acceptable things to talk about on a too-soft couch at three o’clock in the morning, but Sans, as a rule in general, did not care.</p>
<p>At times like these, Frisk didn’t much either. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Do you ever...miss someone?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	No Weights to My Ankles

**Author's Note:**

> “You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy. So let them go, let go of them. I tie no weights to my ankles.”  
>  _― C. JoyBell C._

There were probably healthier, more socially acceptable places to meet and talk than a too-soft couch at three o’clock in the morning. There were probably healthier, more socially acceptable things to talk about on a too-soft couch at three o’clock in the morning, but Sans, as a rule in general, did not care.

At times like these, Frisk didn’t much either.

“Another bad night, huh?” Sans had sat on the couch in the first place with a certain tiny human in mind, and therefore did not need to move over to make room. “The usual?”

Frisk just nodded. A blanket was wrapped around their shoulders, trailing onto the floor, and as they crawled onto the couch and into the crook of Sans’s arm, it made for a pretty nice cocoon, almost.

_You?_ Frisk poked Sans’s side questioningly, their raised eyebrows just visible under a veritable bedhead. Sans snorted. Frisk didn’t wonder if it was at their question or their appearance; their bet was on both.

“You expectin’ me to say no?” Sans raised a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know, bucko. But if we keep meeting up like this people are going to talk.”

Frisk only looked around the quiet, vacant living room, and turned back to Sans with a flat expression on their face.

“Smartass,” Sans said, shoving Frisk’s face away lighly. Frisk didn’t try very hard to hide their snickering. “And don’t tell Tori I said that, I already have a big enough tab on the swear jar.” They both cast an appreciative glance to the half-filled jar on the table at that. Frisk nodded solemly. Sans chuckled. “Thanks, Frisk. Owe you one.”

Frisk made a face as Sans ruffled their hair. His hand was bony. Actually. Frisk paused, and tucked the phrase away for later use; it might make for a good pun, later.

The conversation lulled for a bit after that. It usually did. Whenever either of them was having a bad night, for whatever reason, they would migrate to the couch, and sometimes the other would follow. They’d wait together, until one or both of them was good enough to try for sleep again, and Sans was well on his way to a good doze when he felt a hand tugging on his shirt. He blinked down.

_I..._ Frisk hesitated, their hands moving as they changed phrase. _Do you ever...miss someone?_

Oh. That gave Sans pause. “...You missing somebody?” Sans waited for Frisk to go on after they nodded. They didn’t. “Well, uh. Mind if I ask who?”

Again, Frisk hesitated, biting their lip. Finally, they signed, _You might not like it._

“Can you be any more ominous?” The words were mocking, but Sans’s tone was light. He tilted his head just a bit. “Why wouldn’t I like it?”

_They...hurt people._ _A lot of people,_ Frisk signed, expression solemn. _But they weren’t bad._

‘A lot of people’ was as ominous as Sans had asked for. It was also vague as hell. Sans had a feeling that wasn’t an accident. “Sounds pretty bad to me, Frisk.”

Frisk looked up at Sans. _Am I bad?_

Sans opened his mouth to say no, no, of course not. Then he remembered why he was out here tonight, remembered the dreamed-up memory of a dead brother and a knife in his chest. He closed it.

Frisk glanced away. Just for a moment. When they looked back, their expression was the same closed-off mask it was when they’d first stepped out of the Ruins so long ago. It’s how Sans knew they were hurting.

_I think about resetting sometimes,_ they started, continuing over the sudden blankness on Sans’s face. _When I’m alone or trying to sleep I miss them so much, I just want to go back and start all over again. Just so I can see them, even if it’s only for a little while. And sometimes I--_ Their hands faltered for a moment, but they pressed on. _Sometimes I think that maybe I didn’t try hard enough to save them, that if I go back I can do something to help them, too. I know I shouldn’t, but--_ Frisk’s mask broke violently as their mouth pulled into a grimace. The low lamplight in the room made it easy to see how wet their eyes were. _Sorry. I know how much you don’t like to talk about that. I won’t..._

They trailed off, looking away again. Pressed up against Sans’s side as they were, he could feel exactly how much they were shaking.

Sans hugged Frisk a little closer. They leaned into the touch, tension loosening from their shoulders as if they’d been afraid Sans would push them away. “I believe in you, kid. You’ve gone this far without going back, haven’t you?” The kid was silent for several long moments, and Sans nudged them a little, concerned. “Frisk?”

_How do you know?_ Frisk’s eyes were still wet, but there was a sort of desperation in them that someone like them should’ve never had to feel. _What if I already have before? No one would remember. Not even me. I’ve caught myself almost going back the last couple of months, how many times do you think I’ve reset before? I don’t know!_

Sans could only watch for a moment as Frisk’s breathing hitched. How long had they been keeping this in? Knowing them... Since they all got out, probably. “Frisk,” Sans said, “this person must be pretty special, huh?”

Frisk opened their mouth for a moment, as if they were going to say something and then thought better of it. They just nodded instead.

“Listen,” Sans said. He was never very good at the whole “serious talk” thing, but he was always willing to try for Frisk. “You’re a good kid. You always want what’s best for everybody, even if it means you getting hurt. Thing is... Frisk, sometimes there are people you just can’t help no matter how much you want to. And sometimes the best thing is to learn to let go.”

Sans wondered if he was being selfish, telling the kid all this. Maybe there really was a way to save this friend that Frisk didn’t seem to want to tell him too much about. Maybe Sans was letting his own fears get in the way.

But Frisk just sighed softly. _You’re right._ They shook their head, as if trying to clear it. _It’s still hard though._

“Yeah. But I think we’re doing pretty alright.”

Frisk smiled then. After a moment, they made as if to push glasses up their nose. _Nerd._

“Wow,” Sans said, and signed back _No, you._

_Noooo,_ Frisk signed, smile twitching upwards still, and then shrieked as Sans lunged for them.

“Yup!” Sans grinned as he attacked Frisk’s sides. The living room filled with peals of laughter.

_Mercy!_ Frisk kicked half-heartedly, more out of reflex than anything. _Sans!_

“Alright, alright.” Sans held his hands up and leaned back against the couch. “I’ll spare you for now. But you better keep an eye out.”

_That’s not fair!_ Frisk pouted, tugging the blanket over their head before continuing. _I can’t even get you back._

“One of the pros of being a skeleton. No one can tickle you.” Sans winked. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a funny bone.”

Frisk stuck their tongue out. They’d call Sans a nerd again, but they didn’t want to press their luck and end up waking Papyrus. Hm...

They pulled their blanket off instead, throwing it over the monster next to them before he could move. He flailed for a moment, spluttering, until he fell still.

“Oh no,” he said, voice muffled and deadpan under the blanket. “I’ve been defeated. Argh.”

Frisk pulled the blanket down enough to uncover Sans’s head, then, and gave him a smile. Sans laughed lightly.

“You should hit the hay. Don’t you have a school thing tomorrow? You’re gonna be tired if you stay up too late.”

Frisk shook their head, tugging the blanket over enough to cover them both. _I want to stay here._

“Fair enough.” Sans let his eyes close. Frisk’s warmth was a comfort; it was never said that Frisk helped Sans just by being there as much as Sans helped Frisk, but they both knew. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

There were probably healthier, more socially acceptable places to fall asleep than a too-soft couch at three o’clock in the morning. But if there were, well.

Neither of them really cared much, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> gently places this on top of the "frisk and sans talking about feelings on a couch late at night" fic pile


End file.
